


not forgotten

by Roflskate



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Character Death, Developing Relationship, Gay Aliens, M/M, Macen is a giant nerd, Macen is surprisingly oblivious as well, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Spectres are kinda assholes, Turians, a dangerous amount of alcohol, background references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roflskate/pseuds/Roflskate
Summary: "As he gazes out at the stars, in awe of just how bright they seemed compared to home, all he wants is more time."--Macen Barro and Avitus Rix's relationship through the years, from the beginning, to the bitter end.





	1. prologue: natanus

**Author's Note:**

> So... this started off as a pretty short one shot, but sort of took on a massive life of its own. I've got to say that I wasn't expecting to be quite so taken in by the whole tragedy of the turian ark, but here we are. I'm anticipating this story will be about ten parts (or eight parts, with a short prologue and epilogue), but... we shall definitely see what happens. The rating has changed to "M" in anticipation for... future events.
> 
> Feel free to check me out over on [tumblr](http://baratheon.tumblr.com)!

Macen Barro’s death was everything that a turian could hope for. _Should hope for_. He’d preformed his duty as admirably as anyone could hope to in the situation, secured the safety of the thousands of individuals still remaining in stasis, and provided a clear transfer to the next man in the line of succession. Whatever else happens, he’s certain that Avi will be able to handle whatever the galaxy throws at him.

( _He was always the stronger one out of the two of them_ , Macen tells himself. _He has to be fine._ )

And yet, as he gazes out at the stars, in awe of just _how_ bright they seemed compared to home, all he wants is _more time_.


	2. menae

Macen Barro had first met Avitus Rix some eighteen (or six hundred and fifty-two, depending on how you looked at it) years ago, on his third mission with Blackwatch, and first alone in the field with the unit. By all standards, he was more than capable of carrying out any task set out before him. He’d been at the top of his class in boot camp, and had received commendation on almost _every_ operation he’d been a part of. With three years left in his mandatory service, he was one of the youngest engineers promoted to Blackwatch in the last fifty years. Objectively, he was entirely qualified.

But that didn’t stop his nerves from trying to get the better of him.

On the surface, the mission seemed simple enough (or simple enough for _Blackwatch_ ). A small squad had gone dark after unearthing some sort of artifact during a training exercise on Menae. To make matters worse, any surveillance drones they sent in seemed to malfunction when they got within the impacted zone. So, they needed someone to do recon to determine _what_ had happened, and recover the artifact, if possible. Colonel Corinthus, his superior, would provide Macen with support over a comms channel, and advise for reinforcements if needed. Simple enough.

Except, of course for the fact that it was _Menae._ And a squad, no matter how small, going dark for no discernable reason on what was probably the most secure moon in the galaxy was a matter of security not only for Palaven, but potentially for the whole _Council_. So, naturally, they’d sent a Spectre to assist with the mission. And as much as he hated to admit it, that thought alone had made Macen more than a little jumpy. Unlike most respectable Hierarchy soldiers, Spectres operated by their own rules, and he’d heard more than one account of a mission that had gone wildly off the rails because of their interference.

Still, any _good_ soldier would be able to remain calm, regardless whatever a Spectre brought to the table.

So, there really was _nothing_ to worry about. Yet, as Macen and the Colonel’s shuttle quickly approached the rendezvous point, he couldn’t help but feel _uneasy_.  No matter his background, no matter the faith that others had put in him, there was still the off chance that with a Spectre watching, he might take a false step on his first solo mission that could and _would_ reflect poorly on every man and woman that trained him, the legacy of Blackwatch as the top spec ops in the entire turian military, and the Hierarchy as a whole.

No pressure, really.

Colonel Corinthus must have noticed his discomfort, because he took that moment to offer a reassuring look. “You will do well, Lieutenant Barro.”

 _And if I don’t, then they’ll say it’s your mistake for sending me in the first place_ , Macen thought, and cursed himself for letting his nerves get the better of him like some recruit straight out of boot camp. Which, didn’t exactly help matters either. But, for the sake of the mission he’d _have_ to bury any reservations he might feel. It _was_ any other mission.

(Only it very clearly wasn’t.)

“Do you know the name of the Spectre they’ve assigned to the mission?” Macen asked, hoping that maybe some extra information might just work out in his favour.

One of Corinthus’s mandibles twitched. “You’ll see when we get there. I was informed that the situation is… somewhat unique.”

He wasn’t quite sure how he liked the sound of that, but kept his voice as even as possible, hoping that his subvocals betrayed nothing. “Unique?”

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I’m not at liberty to say any more. The situation will be explained by the Spectre more thoroughly when we arrive.”

The Colonel’s answer did little for his nerves, but there was hardly anything to be done about that. He spent the rest of the shuttle ride in silence, uttering a silent prayer to the Spirit of Blackwatch for guidance. By the time they touched down, he was feeling, if not at fully at ease, at least more _prepared_ for the situation.

That was, until the shuttle door opened.

The Spectre they’d sent was a turian, which was hardly surprising, given the situation’s impact on Palaven’s security.  What _was_ perhaps a _bit_ of a shock (to put it lightly) was that _unmistakable_ black hood, white carapace and those icy blue eyes that _every_ turian his age had seen in countless vids.

 _Spirits_. They’d sent _Saren Arterius_ himself.

 _Why_ they send _him_ on a mission with the most famous (or _infamous_ , depending on which turian you asked) Spectre? Macen was _only_ a Lieutenant. A Blackwatch Lieutenant with a solid record, but a Lieutenant all the same. If anyone, it should be _Corinthus_ out there, if the Council had decided this was important enough for Saren.

“Colonel. Lieutenant.” Saren’s tone betrayed nothing, and Macen prayed he hadn’t noticed his discomfort.

Trying his best to settle his nerves, Macen jumped to his feet, offering a salute. If the mission wasn’t more complicated than it seemed _before_ , it definitely was _now_. But it was still _his_ responsibility to carry it out, and he would do so, without question.

It was, after all, the turian way.

“It’s unfortunate that we aren’t meeting under better circumstances,” Saren continued, “however, I am given to believe that you are an exceptionally gifted combat engineer, and one of the finest soldiers of your age. I trust that you and my associate will carry out the mission to the best of your ability.”

… _Associate_? Macen glanced over to Colonel Corinthus, wondering if this was what he had meant earlier about “unique circumstances”.

“Sirs? May I request clarification?” He kept his tone even, betraying nothing.

Saren’s mandibles flicked in light annoyance, but Corinthus nodded at him to go on. “As I hoped Corinthus might’ve mentioned, our situation is… different. Like the colonel, I will be providing additional support once you reach the designated point. Your partner for this mission will be my protégé, Avitus Rix. He is in the final stages of his Spectre training, and I have _full_ confidence in his abilities.”

Embarrassingly, a small wave of relief swept over Macen. The importance of the mission still weighed heavily on him, and failure would still reflect poorly on Corinthus _and_ Saren, but knowing that his partner would also be a “rookie” (in the loosest sense of the word) made everything seem slightly more balanced again.

“We are roughly four hours out from the position where the artifact was unearthed.” Corinthus’s voice snapped Macen back to full attention. “While visuals do not seem to work within the impacted rage, audio seems perfectly functional. Contact us as soon as you reach the NavPoint. Dismissed.”

Corinthus gave him a reassuring nod, and after another hasty salute to both men, Macen left the shuttle, happy to _finally_ get a breath of fresh air from Menae’s artificial atmosphere.

“So you’re the specialist?”

Macen turned around. Leaning against the shuttle was none other than the turian that he could only assume was Avitus Rix. Like Saren, he also had a distinctive white carapace. However, unlike Saren, he wore his colony markings with pride, and instead of icy blue eyes, his were a dark amber. He was younger too, closer to Macen’s age.

(Macen might’ve thought he was handsome, were it not for the fact that such an observation would be in poor taste while the security of the planet might be at risk, or that he couldn’t look more disinterested if he _tried_.)

In a friendly gesture, he offered him his hand to shake.

“Lieutenant Macen Barro.”

Avitus glanced down at his hand, flicking his mandibles once, before giving a curt nod. “I’m assuming Saren and your superior explained the task, and what we’re doing.”

“They did.” Macen lowered his hand, as Avitus turned away.

“Then we don’t have anything else to say to each other until we reach our destination.”

Well. This was _bound_ to be the start of a _beautiful_ friendship.

 

* * *

 

For the first hour, they travelled in total (and, if Macen were being honest, _uncomfortable_ ) silence, before Macen decided to do _something_ to make the situation slightly more palatable.

“Did you like living on Digeris?”

Avitus looked at him as though he might as well have grown an extra head. “What?”

Macen persisted. “Your colony markings. The colour is from Digeris, right?”

Avitus’s narrowed his eyes. “I really don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“In my experience, I’ve found that missions tend to go better when the individuals working together communicate. Find things in common, and get to know their colleagues beyond their first names.” Though, Macen admitted to himself, it was rather difficult to imagine either Saren or Avitus having much of a conversation about anything. Still, one couldn’t fault a man for _trying_.

“All you need to know is that I want this mission to go smoothly.”

Macen sighed. “At least I found _one_ thing we have in common, Avitus Rix.”

 

* * *

 

The next three hours passed in the same heavy silence. Occasionally, Macen would steal a glance at the not-quite Spectre, trying to guess _what_ exactly he was thinking. Unfortunately, all he was ever met with was a glare, or a disdainful flick of his mandibles. Which almost told him as much as if the man had actually spoken with him. Avitus was focused on the mission, almost to the point of singlemindedness. And he would have _obviously_ been much happier if he were doing this on his own.

Unfortunately, neither of them had exactly gotten what they’d wanted, now had they?

“Look.”

Macen was snapped out of his thoughts by Avitus gesturing to a small object not far from them. Readying his Omni-Tool, Macen headed over for a closer look.

“It’s one of the downed security satellites. No signs of weapon damage… though it was knocked out by an EMP consistent with Hierarchy tech.”

“Then it was our men who brought it down?”

Macen lowered his eyes as he continued scanning the drone. “Maybe. Or someone wanted us to _think_ it was our men. Either way, we’ll need to be careful. Navpoint says we’re getting close to the site.”

Avitius nodded, signalling for him to follow more closely as he readied his assault rifle.

As they approached the site, they came across more of the downed navigation drones, each telling the same story of a localized EMP. Someone didn’t want the Hierarchy to know _what_ was going on.

They stopped about seven hundred metres away from the NavPoint the colonel had given them, in an area with fewer downed drones.

“You think you’ll be able to get visual conformation on the site?”

Avitus gave him a _look_. Macen wondered what else he was expecting from the other turian and simply shrugged.

“Right. I’ll stay back and set the comm link up while you get in closer.”

And so, he set to work as Avitus vanished into the distance without so much of a word. In the few short hours he’d spent with the man, he was starting to understand why so few officers he knew _liked_ working with Spectres.

“This is Lieutenant Macen Barro to Menae Command Beta. Come in.”

“ _We hear you, Lieutenant. This is Colonel Corinthus._ ”

“ _This is Avitus Rix. Approaching the NavPoint._ ”

 _“Do you have a visual on the situation yet?”_ Saren asked.

“ _There doesn’t seem to be anything here except for what I can only guess is the artifact._ ” Avitus said, “ _Spirits, I’ve never seen anything like it._ ”

“ _Would you and Barro be able to retrieve it?”_ Colonel Corinthus asked.

“ _Negative, Colonel._ ” Avitus replied, “ _If it’s going to be moved it would take a squad of— hold on. How large was the patrol that was supposed to have found this thing?_ ”

“ _There were six of them in total_.” Corinthus said.

“ _—Then I think that I might’ve found them._ ” There was a twinge of uncertainly in Avitus’s voice. It was the most emotion Macen had heard him express beyond “indifferent annoyance” on this entire mission.

“ _What do you mean that you think?_ ”

“ _It’s… not quite right. First of all, they’re just sitting around it. No guards. No… nothing. Secondly, they… it’s like they’re turians, but they’re… wrong. Their eyes and skin… they’ve got this glow… it’s like…”_

“— _They’re part machine_?”

“ _Exactly like that_.” Avitus said in a hushed tone.

Suddenly, there was a rustle of movement on the other line. _“Spirits, no one is moving the artifact. Not unless all you have a death wish.”_ If Macen didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn he heard _panic_ in Saren’s subvocals. “ _Corinthus, patch us through to Manae command. Tell them I want full orbital bombardment of the NavPoint. Tell them it’s a matter of security for the entire turian race._ ”

A heavy silence hung in the air until Corinthus’s voice came through the comm link. He sounded tired, more than anything. “… _Yes sir. Corinthus out_.”

“ _You both have fifteen minutes. I suggest both of you clear the area immediately.”_ This time, Saren’s tone betrayed nothing.

Macen couldn’t help but ask about the other part of the mission. “And… the scouts, sir?”

“ _They’re beyond saving_.” Saren’s voice sent chills through his spine. “ _Saren out._ ”

Macen took one deep breath, then another. Well shit.

“…Avitus, did you catch all of that?”

There was silence over the comms link.

“Avitus?”

This time, he could hear gunfire over the line, and off in the distance.

“ _The— They noticed— Look— Don’t worry— I’ve got it under control._ ”

Like hell he did.

Spectre or not, there was no way he could take out six hostiles _and_ clear the area in fifteen minutes by himself. Reaching for his heavy pistol, Macen began a mad sprint for the NavPoint.

\--

He found Avitus Rix pinned in a crater. He’d managed to take down one of the scouts on his own, but the others were still circling. If they were going to make it out of here alive, Macen had to think fast. Five-on-one were still crap odds for anyone, even a Spectre. Five-on-two… was better, but still not optimal. But five-on-three…

He reached for his omni-tool, typing code after code with a flurry. “…You know what to do, Aventen.” Off went his combat drone, complete with a little “surprise” for any of the scouts that managed to take it out.

Three of them took the bait, giving Avitus some breathing room, Macen the _perfect_ opportunity to send an incineration round at one of them.

Four-on-three. Not bad. Just seconds later, the number shrank to three, when Avitus hit another one with his assault rifle, then two, and finally, none at all, with the “reward” for taking down the combat drone being an explosive round to the face for the remaining scouts.

 “Good job, Aventen.”

“...Lieutenant?” Avitus poked his head out of the crater, and the look of shock was _palpable_ on his face.

“You’re not injured, are you?” Macen rushed over, offering him a hand. To his surprise, Avitus took it this time.

“I’m fine. How long do we have until bombardment?”

Macen glanced down at his omni-tool. “By my estimate? About eight minutes.”

“Then we better get going.”

 

* * *

 

One would be surprised at how fast turians could run when certain doom awaited them if they didn’t. They watched the bombardment from a safe distance, breathing heavily from all the sprinting..

 “You saved my life.” There was a strange mix of emotions in Avitus’s voice.

“Of course I did. We _were_ a team in this, no matter how much you didn’t want to be. There’s no way I could’ve left you behind, not when I had the chance to save you.” Even if he couldn’t exactly say that he _liked_ the other turian, it was still the right thing to do.

“A… Spectre wouldn’t have done that.”

Macen’s mandibles flared slightly. “Well, then it’s a good thing that I’m not a Spectre.”

Avitus opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to decide against it.

They moved in silence on their trip back to base camp, just as they had before. But, this time the silence didn’t hang in the air in the same way.

 

Something had changed between the two of them.


	3. palaven

The day after the mission debriefing on Palaven with the Primarch and the Council, Macen received a message on an encrypted channel:

 

_Lieutenant Barro,_

_I never got to properly thank you for what you did back on Menae, and I’m sure I didn’t exactly make the best first impression on you. I’m on Palaven for another night, and there’s this one bar not far from where I’m staying that claims to serve the best horsok on the planet. I thought that as a Blackwatch officer, you might want to join me in making sure they aren’t lying. For the safety of Palaven, of course. NavPoint is attached, and drinks are on me._

_Avitus Rix_

 

Macen read over the message again, almost wondering if there had been some kind of mistake. While they’d ended the mission on what had seemed like much better terms, the other turian had given little indication that he’d be interested in speaking to him again, let alone sharing a friendly drink. Still, there was _really_ no good reason to turn down the man, and he was somewhat curious to see how different the soon-to-be Spectre was when he was off-duty. After a few more moments of deliberation, Macen replied:

 

_Avitus,_

_I could never turn down a mission so vital to ensuring the Hierarchy’s safety. I can see why you needed to send this over Blackwatch’s most classified channel. I’ll faithfully do my duty to my planet._

_I’ll meet you there._

_Macen_

 

The coordinates that Avitus sent led him to a small bar, about twenty minutes from his apartment. Sure enough, in the front window was a holo-display that proudly proclaimed: BEST HOROSK ON PALAVEN. Avitus was waiting outside, looking decidedly uncomfortable and out of place in his off-duty attire. As he had on Menae, he acknowledged Macen with a curt nod.

“Lieutenant.”

“Spectre,” Macen replied in turn.

“Not yet,” Avitus corrected, “though, when we get back to the Citadel, Saren said that he’d be recommending me for official status. For getting shot at, and almost killed.”

Macen shook his head. “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. If it wasn’t for you, we’d have had no way of knowing _what_ was going on. You did a good job.”

“Says the man that had to save my life.”

“There was a reason that it wasn’t a solo mission,” Macen reminded him, “besides, I’d have been equally hopeless alone in your situation. There’s only so much Aventen and my omni-tool could’ve done. And those… whatever they were weren’t going down with just a heavy pistol.”

“Aventen?”

“My combat drone,” Macen replied.

Avitus raised a brow plate. “You _named_ your combat drone.”

He shrugged, “I worked _hard_ on him.”

“You named your combat drone after the _dullest_ turian philosopher.”

“ _Or_ the first planet from Trebia. Or maybe both. I’ll tell you what: we get those drinks and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about my combat drone.”

Avitus stared at him for a moment, mandibles flicking back and forth. “Let’s grab that drink. Spirits know it’s going to take a _lot_ of alcohol to make Aventen _or_ combat drones sound interesting.”

Macen laughed.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, while Macen had many talents, taking shots of horosk was not one of them. One shot had him shuddering, and downing an entire cup of water. Avitus, meanwhile, appeared completely unaffected, and seemed more amused than anything else.

“I’m surprised, Lieutenant. I’d have thought that a member of Blackwatch would know his way around his drinks.”

Macen _thought_ about mentioning to Avitus that _no one_ drinks horosk straight, but somehow he doubts that the other turian will particularly care.

“You know, I’ve got to keep my mind sharp while calibrating algorithms. It’s really the Hierarchy’s fault that I haven’t had straight horosk since getting out of boot camp.” Or… _ever_ , really, but Avitus didn’t need to know that.

To his surprise, Avitus _laughed_ , as he poured two more shots from the bottle the bartender had left for them (after giving both of them a look that seemed to question their sanity).

“Should’ve known. Let me guess, you haven’t had the time because drinking _might impede you from doing your civic duty_?” Avitus downed his own shot without so much as a flinch, before pushing the other one over to Macen.

“You know, for not knowing my boot camp instructor, you do a damn good impression of her.” He glanced down at the drink. He wasn’t _really_ feeling that first shot of horosk just yet, but he wasn’t exactly in any hurry to repeat the experience.

“That’s because they’re all the same. Up on Manae, you asked me how I liked living on Digeris? It was crap. My whole family had been pilots, for as long as anyone could remember. They wanted me to do the same, no questions asked. I wanted to do something different? Got myself labelled a troublemaker, even though I still managed to get the highest marks in combat training out of my whole damn year. They shuffled me around from unit to unit until Saren picked me out personally,” his mandibles flared with pride, “can’t say that my parents ever forgave me, though. What about you, Lieutenant?”

And suddenly, Avitus began to make all that much more sense to Macen. Not everyone was _meant_ for the Meritocracy, and some turians were too mired in their own notions of “honor” and “tradition” to accept anything or anyone deviating from the set path.

He supposed he’d been fortunate in that regard.

“Not much to say, really. My parents are both lifetime military, and in respectable citizenship tiers. My older sister is too. She met her husband while they were fighting together during Relay-314. So military always just seemed like the… natural choice, though I don’t think they expected me to take quite so heavily to engineering,” Macen looked down at that second shot again, and decided to take it, internal organs be damned.

This time, he shuddered _slightly_ less, but Avitus still seemed to find it just as amusing. “Look at you. Respected military family. Top of your class. Youngest Blackwatch engineer. _Named_ your combat drone after a philosopher. And being out-paced by a _Spectre Candidate_. Such a disappointment.”

“I don’t know… I think I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.” After that second shot, he was _definitely_ starting to feel it.

But now, Avitus had him feeling _competitive_.

They talked a little more, about what the best heavy pistol was (Macen insisted that a well-modded M3-Predator was as good as anything out there, while Avitus reminded him that he hadn’t _seen_ what Spectre requisitions could get a hold of) as Avitus poured a third shot for the both of them.

On the bright side, he didn’t cringe once as the drink burned down his throat. On the downside, the entire room was starting to feel like it was spinning.

But damn if he wasn’t going to keep up.

“You know, Lieutenant, you aren’t half bad company for a Blackwatch officer. I think I’d like you even if you hadn’t saved my life,” Avitus admitted.

Macen shook his head violently.

“You think? I distinctly remember you… not exactly… wanting to ta— to tal—” Damn it… what was the word… “To— say anything to me. It was all ‘Sorry Lieutenant, I can do this on my own. What? You’re ONLY Blackwatch? Too bad. I’m a Spectre!’”

And now Avitus was _really_ laughing.

“That was before I knew you actually had a personality. And that you could barely handle your horosk.”

A truly awful idea crossed his mind.

“Pour me another one, Avi— Avitu—. Damn it, Avi, just pour me another one.”

A fourth shot was a terrible idea, but spirits be damned, he was going to keep pace with that smug, handsome... Specimen of a (soon-to-be) Spectre. Holding up the glass, he mustered his most _drunken_ look of triumph.

“You can’t defeat me… For Palaven. And the glory...osity of the empire!”

The last thing he remembered before everything went black reaching out to touch Avitus’s face.

 

* * *

 

 

Macen woke up the next morning in his apartment, lying on the floor, and feeling like someone had ripped off his crest and then nailed it back onto his head. He blinked once, twice, and tried to sit up before letting out a groan and lying straight back down.

“You’re awake. Good.” A disembodied voice spoke. A familiar disembodied voice. Macen attempted to open his eyes again, and was met this time with Avitus Rix’s sharp eyes staring down at him.

“Spirits…” He groaned again.

Avitus’s mandibles flicked from side to side as he offered the other turian a hand. “Glad you’ve partially recovered. When we were heading back here, you… got pretty incoherent. Had to use your omni-tool for directions.” Macen took his hand and with what felt like an immense display of strength, finally got to his feet.

Something still didn’t quite make sense. Well, a lot of something’s still didn’t make sense but first thing’s first.

“How’d you get the code to my omni-tool?”

Avitus blinked, with his facial plates raised in confusion. “You gave it to me. You kept going on about how the Spirit of your apartment would guide you home, but just in case it ‘failed’, you whispered the encryption to me. After that, I figured that I’d better stay and keep an eye on you. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Macen sighed, rubbing his forehead in a futile attempt to ease the pain. “That fourth shot of horosk that I’m pretty sure I took for the glory of Palaven.” And… if embarrassing himself wasn’t enough…  “I… really gave you my omni-tool access code?”

If his head wasn’t pounding so badly, he might start panicking about the implications. Avitus, meanwhile, appeared completely unbothered by it all.

“Only the basic extranet encryption. You were… rather clear about how giving me anything else would shame your family and your superiors.”

“Of _course_ I did.” On one hand, it was a relief to hear that he managed to retain _some_ semblance of sense. On the other… Macen moved to sit down, cursing himself for making such a preventable mistake. “Spirits, what _else_ did I say?”

Avitus was silent for some time, which clearly did not bode well for Macen’s reputation as a _dignified_ turian.

“…You really want to know?”

“Not really,” Macen admitted, as he continued to rub his forehead, “but I was the one stupid enough to think I could handle four shots of horosk, so I should live with the consequences.”

To his surprise, Avitus laughed.

“How noble. You’ll be happy to know that by the end of the night, you were too far gone to say much else _._ Hell, you could barely pronounce my _name_. You kept calling me ‘Avi’.”

“Of course I did,” Macen shook his head, grateful that _some_ of the pounding seemed to be dulling ever so slightly. “…There’s nothing else?”

Avitus sat down next to him, stretching out his arms. “Other than saying my colony marking had a distinct resemblance to the Armax Arsenal logo if you closed your eyes and spun around? Nothing that you really need to know. Mostly, just nonsensical rambling about combat drones and turian philosophy. And… a healthy amount of vomiting.”

They sat in silence as Macen let all of it sink in. To be _that_ irresponsible, and force a (not quite) _Spectre_ he barely knew no less to babysit him… it reflected poorly on him, on his _superiors_ , earlier live-saving mission or not. A pity that the night had begun as one of the most unexpectedly enjoyable ones he’d had in a long time.

“I’m sorry, Avitus.”

Avitus turned to look him straight in the eye, his expression softer than Macen had ever seen it.

“Don’t be. It was the best time I’ve had in months. It was… relaxing knowing that the worst thing that could happen was a drunk turian throwing up on me, of than a batarian slaver shooting me in the face.”

He supposed that Avitus _did_ had a point; after all, working with Saren Arterius was probably not something that anyone would call ‘relaxing’.

“Besides, it’s not like _I_ was exactly sober either, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you take that last shot of horosk. It’s easy to forget that not everyone has my tolerance with the stuff.” Avitus continued, resting his hand on Macen’s arm as if to emphasise the point. “I _enjoyed_ myself, Lieutenant.”

Macen laughed, partially out of relief. “Spirits, I’ve saved your life. _You’ve_ seen me so drunk that I almost gave away Hierarchy secrets. I think that puts both of us at _least_ on first name terms... _Avi_.”

Avitus’s eyes narrowed, as he shifted away from the other turian. “…You’re not calling me ‘Avi’.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with it?” Macen asked. 

“It’s—” Avitus paused, looking rather _less_ intimidating than usual, mandibles twitching in irritation, “—it sounds like a nickname you’d give to a _child_.”

 “I like it. Makes you sound more approachable. Spirits know that you could use some of that.”

“Lieutenant—”

“Macen,” he corrected, “but if it bothers you that much, I won’t call you that.” Of course, he couldn’t help but think that if Avitus _had_ wanted the matter to lie, then he shouldn’t have told Macen about it in the first place.

Once again, Avitus was silent, face unreadable. “—It’s… fine,” he finally said, “just don’t make too much of a habit out of it”.

Macen nodded, chuckling to himself. While he wasn’t quite certain he’d ever had such an awful headache, and with the certainty that he’d made a complete fool out of himself, at least he’d managed to gain the friendship of a _Spectre_ , of all men.

“I… should be leaving soon,” Avitus said, moving to stand up. “My flight leaves in a few hours, and Saren doesn’t really like to be kept waiting. But… next time you’re on shore leave between a mission, you should stop by the Citadel, and we can work on getting you to handle your horosk.” His subvocals sounded almost… _unsure_.

Despite still feeling like death, a twinge of warmth rushed over Macen, and his mandibles flared out in response. “I’d be more than happy to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, four shots is usually not enough to get someone blackout drunk, but according to the guard in the Citadel DLC, horosk is enough to send some people into a coma, so I figured it'd have a similar impact as some of the other hard liquors we've seen throughout the games.


	4. citadel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this story... has gotten a little longer than I intended. While I thought it would remain at roughly six parts or so, with a very short prologue and epilogue, it's looking closer to around eight.

Macen spent his next shore leave on the Citadel. And the one after that. And the one after that one. In fact, in the year following that fateful mission, Macen’s could count on both hands the number of shore leaves he had that _didn’t_ end with him visiting the man who was quickly becoming one of his closest friends. There was something _special_ about spending time with the other turian. Avi (who, despite his initial protests, _seemed_ to have no real problem with the drunken nickname bestowed on him) was eager to hear from him on any number of topics, from the latest developments in heavy pistol technology, to the latest ( _declassified_ ) news coming out of Palaven. Macen, meanwhile, was more than happy to listen to his friend talk about the ( _declassified_ ) nature of his work, having finally received official Spectre status.

(“I’d have invited you to the ceremony”, Avi had said, “but you wouldn’t have thanked me. It was duller than listening to you talk about the inner workings of combat drones)

For Macen, it was refreshing to get a perspective that _wasn’t_ mired in Hierarchy politics, and he could only imagine that for Avi, most Spectres left little in the way for casual conversation. But than anything, they just… worked well together. And while (despite Avi’s best efforts) Macen still hadn’t been able to handle his horosk (or rather, he _refused_ to touch it ever again), as the year wore on, Avi became an indispensable comrade and friend.

 

* * *

 

“So, who is he?”

It was the first time in months that Macen’s shore leave had overlapped with his sister’s, however briefly. He’d given her a vidcall in the hopes of catching up, maybe talking a little bit about where their respective careers were going. Instead… she apparently had _other_ thoughts on her mind.

 “What?” he asked.

His sister’s mandibles fluttered slightly in irritation. “Don’t play dumb, little brother.  One of my friends who works in the turian embassy _said_ she saw you on the Citadel _eight_ times in the last six months. You don’t go to the Citadel _that_ often, unless you’re meeting someone. Mother and Father also said that you hadn’t been around on your last few shore leaves. Truthfully, I think they’re relieved. You’re always so absorbed in your work, and I’m pretty sure they’ve been worried you’re going to turn into one of those turians who ‘spiritually’ marries his—”

“—Casia!” Macen said, trying the best to stop her from continuing on _that_ train of thought.

But his sister seemed to ignore him, carrying on with her speculation. “—Macen, there’s clearly _someone._ So who is he? The C-Sec officer that Mother tried to get you to meet a couple of years ago? A foreign diplomat that charmed you while he was visiting Palaven? Spirits, don’t tell me that it’s a hanar—”

“Casia, if you wanted to make up stories this badly, maybe you should’ve been a reporter _instead_ of a pilot. It _isn’t_ like that.”

“So what… you’re just spending all your free time on the Citadel because you like the _view_?” Casia’s eyes narrowed.

Macen sighed in exasperation. “Look, I _have_ been seeing someone on the Citadel, but it isn’t _like_ that. He’s a Spectre that I met in the field, and we—”

His sister raised a brow plate. “—A Spectre? Spirits, maybe our parents _would_ be happier with a “spiritual” marriage to your—”

Again, Macen sighed, “—like I said, it isn’t _like that_. All we do is _talk_ for the most part. Sometimes, it’s… nice to spend time with a turian who has more of an outside perspective. Almost everyone else I know is military, and not much else.”

Casia still didn’t look convinced. “You know that you can always talk to me or Adrien about those things, right? There must be _something_ that’s really special about this Spectre.”

If there was anyone who knew exactly how to annoy him in _just_ the right way, it was her. “He’s my _friend_.  And as great as Adrien is, like you, he’s also a military lifer, and _we’re related_.”

“Well… you’re not _technically_ related to Adrien…”

“…Spirits, Casia, he’s your husband.”

His sister laughed. “Fine, Macen, you’ve made your point. Regardless of… whatever is going on with this Spectre, I’m glad you’re at least relaxing a little during your time off. I was worried that after you joined up with Blackwatch, you’d forgotten how to.”

Macen was tempted to remind her once again that there was _nothing going on_ , but somehow he knew that would only make the situation worse.

“By the way, speaking of Adrien, there’s talk about finally promoting him to colonel. Spirits know that they should’ve done it years ago, but you know how they can be. Anyways, if it _does_ go through this time, I was thinking of having a family get-together. You could even bring your Spectre friend if you want to give our parents a heart attack.”

Of course she wouldn’t let it die. “ _Goodbye,_ Casia. Tell your husband and my nephew that I say ‘hello’.”

Her mandibles fluttered in response. “I will. And give my love to your Spectre. Goodbye, Macen.”

With a sigh, Macen stood up, pacing. His sister had always been that way with him (and _only_ him, it seemed). She’d speculate wildly, teasing him, and normally he’d let it roll right off his carapace. Avi wasn’t even the first friend she had done this with.

And yet, this time, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said:

_There must be something that’s really special about this Spectre._

 

* * *

 

“Macen, are you all right?”

To his frustration, his sister’s words had followed him onto his next trip to the Citadel, though they really shouldn’t have. The whole evening, he’d been having a difficult time paying attention to _anything_ that Avi was saying, frustrated that she felt the need to make _assumptions_ about his personal life, and stick her talons into places that they didn’t belong.

“Sorry, I’m fine. I was just… thinking about my sister.”

It wasn’t really a lie. But, family was one topic that they didn’t bring up often. He knew well enough that Avitus had an unsteady (to put it mildly) relationship with his family, so in turn, Macen rarely mentioned his own.

“Is something bothering you?” Avi asked, dark amber eyes focused on his friend.

Macen was silent for some time, trying to think of the _best_ way to word things _without_ lying to his best friend.

“My sister… met her mate years when they were both still rather young. By the time she was my age, she was already starting her family. I… think she expects the same for me. Not because of any so-called ‘duty’, but I think because she believes that it might make me happier.”

Again, not technically a lie. But certainly not what was really bothering him.

“… _Are_ you bothered by the fact that you don’t have a family? Or…” There was a strange quality to the subvocals in Avi’s question, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Strangely, a wave of discomfort passed over him at the question. He had nothing to be ashamed of, or to hide about any of his past (and few) romantic entanglements, and yet there was a part of him that couldn’t help but feel this was the last subject he wanted to approach with Avi.

But, the feeling soon passed.

“No, not really. Truthfully, for a little while, I almost thought that I’d follow in my sister’s footsteps when it came to… courtship.” He sighed, “…There was a girl, not too long after I finished boot camp. We’d been friends for years, she was from a good family, and I think that everyone just expected us to end up together.”

“Really?” Avi said, perhaps a little too quickly, and with barely-concealed shock. “…What happened?”

“We tried for a year or two. It didn’t work out,” Macen shrugged, “in the end, we both wanted something that the other one couldn’t give.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.”

(Though if Macen was being honest with himself, Avi didn’t sound particularly sorry.)

“Don’t be. It was by far the best thing to happen for the both of us,” Macen added, “she realized that she preferred asari and I realized that I liked my turians with a little more fringe.”

“Oh,” Avi said, as the realization slowly started to dawn on him. “ _Oh_.” For just a moment, Macen could’ve sworn that he detected a distinct note of _relief_ in Avi’s subvocals.

“We stayed friends, but lost contact after she ended up getting shunted into the Cabals a couple years ago.” 

Avi nodded. “…And after that?”

For the life of him, Macen couldn’t figure out _why_ the other turian was suddenly so curious about his love life (or rather distinct lack thereof, particularly in recent years).

“There’s not much to say, really. I’ve… been with a couple of men here and there, but… you know how it is. Other things have just always been a higher priority for me,” his mandibles twitched, “and that goes doubly since joining Blackwatch. The only man I really have time for now is Aventen. So starting a family is… out of the question.”

“Of course. You know, sometimes, I really do worry about you and that drone,” Avi laughed.

“Well, what about _you_? I haven’t seen even so much as even a _combat drone_ in your life.”

Yet, as soon as he asked the question, a strong feeling of dread washed over him at what the answer might be. It _had_ to be because it was a rather personal question and he _knew_ that Avi didn’t like answering those. Yes, that was _clearly_ the reason. He’d asked an invasive question and was feeling distinctly _guilty_ he’d put his friend in an awkward position.

It had _nothing_ to do with jealousy.

“…You’ve got me there. I don’t really have much to say, either. There were a handful of turians when I was on Digeris, but once I started Spectre training, not much else. Saren took up most of my time, and I wanted to impress him.”

“And you didn’t… with…” Macen once again cursed himself for asking such an invasive question in stone cold sobriety, yet…

“ _Spirits_ Macen, no! He was my _mentor_. Besides, even if I didn’t care, I’m pretty sure that Saren _would_. It would’ve been completely inappropriate.”

“So, in the end you aren’t exactly one to talk either,” Macen said, trying his best to keep his tone even, so as to not let Avi inadvertently know the number of different emotions he was feeling.

“I guess not,” Avi laughed, mandibles flaring in response, “but if we _really_ want to get technical, it _still_ sounds like I’ve had a little more adventure in my life than _you_.”

From there, the rest of the evening passed by wonderfully, thanks in no small part to the sheer _relief_ Macen had felt at Avi’s answer.

 

* * *

 

That night, he fell into a restless sleep. He dreamt about a number of things, none of which he could entirely remember. All, that is, save the last dream:

_It was a bad idea right from the start. How Avi had convinced him to go hand-to-hand with him was really anyone’s guess. Despite his most valiant effort, the fight was entirely predictable, ending with his back on the ground, and Avi straddling his hips._

_All things considered, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant situation. And it became decidedly_ more _pleasant as Avi leaned down, gently stroking the sensitive skin on his neck. Macen gave a low murmur of approval in his subvocals, as he reached up to pull his friend closer, lightly rocking their hips together._

_Avi’s mandibles flared, and he shifted, slowly moving his hand lower, until—_

Macen awoke with a start, his exposed skin (among… _other_ things) flushed a very _distinct_ hue of blue, as a few things began to add up in his head.

It seemed that, given recent events, it might be reasonable to conclude that he _might_ be _slightly_ attracted to Avitus Rix.

Now, the question was _what_ (if anything) was he going to _do_ about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because apparently the galaxy really is just like a small town, there might be a number of side turian easter eggs I put into this chapter...


End file.
